


sos iceberg

by theodxcker



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theodxcker/pseuds/theodxcker
Summary: [ TW - alcohol/drugs, violence implied ]"On nights like this, I could only hope to give him at least half of the calmness he brought me."Or, the tables are turned for a change as Theo takes care of Boris.





	sos iceberg

**Author's Note:**

> the support on my last fic, badr al dine, was so overwhelming, that it inspired me to create and post another story! thank you all so much. ♥

My life at home (though I often hesitated to use the word ‘home’ when it came to the dusty, sweltering house I occupied with my father in Vegas) was generally okay. Sure, Xandra came busting in at all hours of the night, and I despised listening to my father’s speils. There was a while before school started and a bit into September that on chilly nights, I was sick with longing for a better life. Imagining myself curled up in a cozy apartment somewhere in New York, or really anywhere but here. The visions and dreams when my mom actually returned home felt so tangible that when I woke up still stranded in the desert, I felt utterly defeated. 

However, once I’d met Boris, it was as though he’d created this entirely new perspective on living. It was like the endless, strangling sand-washed sidewalks suddenly felt conquerable. Though it was more often than not that I felt there was no hope left for me, he radiated an energy of reassurance just being by my side. It was as though to be with Boris was the ticket to making it out alive. It seems not only contradictory, but fucked up, considering the danger we put ourselves in (stumbling through inky streets on a mind-melting acid trip, leaping off the swing-set as we reached the lofty top bar and tumbling face-first into gravel, ect.) Though I was aware of all of this, a surge of well-being always pumped through my veins whenever he was around. Whether he knew it or not, he kept me as sane as I could have been after everything I’d gone through. 

Lost in thought, I had hardly realized the sun had gone down. I sat alone in the park, slumped against the cold, metal end of the slide waiting for Boris. What happened to him? We had agreed earlier that day at school to meet at the park sometime around 4:30 in the afternoon. At home, I’d half-assed an algebra assignment and eaten a couple of hot wings left in the fridge from Xandra before heading out. Though Boris was rarely on time for anything unless he was accompanied by me, I guessed it had been roughly two and a half hours of waiting, and I began to feel uneasy. Another 20 minutes or so passed, my mind racing to all the worst conclusions (as it so often did), before Boris showed up. His figure, dark and sharp in the moonlight, was instantly recognizable to me. Raising myself up off the slide on my palms, I walked quickly to meet him halfway.

“Where have you been?” Though not harsh, my tone came off more parental than I had intended. In all honesty, I was relieved to see him, but I couldn’t imagine what would have taken him so long.

“Sorry! Came as quick as I could, honest.” His long, dark hair was covering one of his eyes, but he pushed past me before I could get a better look at him. “Good news is, your endurance has paid off, Potter! Didn’t want to come empty-handed, yah?” Slumping onto one of the swings, he revealed a glittering bottle of whiskey from under his sweater. 

“Where’d you get that?” I inquired, curious as I situated myself down on the remaining swing. I closed my hand around the chain, cold and drenched in weak orange light from the streetlamps. 

Pulling the cork out, Boris flicked it into the sand and leaned back against the swing’s chain. Before answering, he took a long swig, face upturned towards the light. This was the best look I’d gotten of him thus far tonight, and what I saw made my heart sink.  
“Boris, your nose-” A stream of blood had dried, ending just under his bottom lip. The closer I looked, I noticed he also had a fairly significant gash across his chin. 

“Eh?” Voice thick after a drink, he passed the bottle to me. I took it softly, my hand feeling warm and sticky after brushing with his. I realized his knuckles must bloody, the crimson glint visible on the back of my fingers as I held the bottle up. 

As we passed the bottle back and forth, I debated what to do. Though I recalled that last time I’d tried to mend Boris’ wounds, I hadn’t been notably successful, I wasn’t too drunk yet. Quickly remembering that Xandra would likely be home tonight, I tried to think of the next best alternative. 

“Is.. your dad still home?” My voice came out strained, but I relaxed as I heard Boris chuckle softly.

“Nah, he’ll be gone for a while. Not sure why he left so late, or when he is coming back, but I’m not complaining too much about this.” He sounded tired, a hint of pain drowned in his reassurance towards me. 

In that moment it occurred to me that, though he made me feel safer than I’d felt in god knows how long now, Boris likely never felt wholly safe at all. That despite the fact his life had seemed so hectic to me in a grand, novel-esque way, maybe I was only understanding the bare minimum. 

Struck by some alcohol-induced epiphany, I shot up from the swing. The remainder of the night suddenly looked so clear to me, and spending it wasting away covered in rust and gravel wasn’t particularly ideal. “Come on, I’ve got an idea!”

“Not trying to be rude, but those words are never reassuring coming from you, especially after this.” He flicked his fingernail against the bottle before taking another swig. I scoffed, deciding to ignore his offhanded comment. 

Though my legs felt uneasy, knees jittery as I stumbled across the pavement, I was making good time on my way to his house. I could hear him shuffling behind me, mumbling something in Ukranian. 

Making my way through the empty streets, I recalled one of the nights I’d spent with my mother after my dad had stormed out, off to the bar to wipe his memory of another violent feud. I’d been terrified, but she had turned the whole night around. Scooping me up, she’d made us a blanket fort on the couch and binged Disney films with me until I eventually fell asleep. Though I doubted Boris’ room was stocked up with copies of Lady and the Tramp or The Lion King, I had something even better in mind. 

“Is it unlocked?” I called back to him, finally turning up at the doorstep to his house. 

“Should be.”  
Letting myself in, I made a sharp turn towards the bathroom. Retrieving a washcloth from the cabinets, I quickly soaked it in water. Boris’ house wasn’t exactly equipped when it came to things like bandages, or peroxide, so I settled for what I could find. 

I grabbed Boris lightly by the shoulder as he’d leaned into the doorway to see what I was up to. Wordlessly, before he could protest, I handed him the washcloth. “Here, clean yourself up while I get everything ready.” 

“Potter, what are you doing?” Though he looked thoroughly confused, a small smile played on his lips once he saw how excited I was. Without answering, I pushed past him, on my way to his room.

It was dark and cold, though admittedly peaceful. The same orange light from the playground seeped onto and dripped from his flag and various blankets. Spotting exactly what I was looking for atop his vibrant mattress, I quickly snatched the DVD case and began fumbling with his dinky television. 

Boris stumbled in from the bathroom at the perfect moment. Everything was set up just right. The main light in his room was off, allowing the natural light to take over. I had loosely draped a blanket around my shoulders, with two more laid out next to me just for him. On the TV, the menu screen for SOS Iceberg awaited me to select the play option with the remote. After taking everything in, Boris was beaming. 

“Theo, you didn’t have to-”

“Shut up and get over here!” I waved my hand impatiently, though I was involuntarily smiling as I realized he’d called me by my name. 

He made his way towards me, letting himself fall against the mattress with a peaceful sigh. 

Though I’d grown familiar to it by now, I was content to feel the warm, soothing sense of safety trickle down my spine. On nights like this, I could only hope to give him at least half of the calmness he brought me. 

As I felt his breathing slow as he slumped against me, snuggled up in blankets with the TV illuminating every detail of his face, I knew that just maybe it was enough. Just maybe, I was enough.


End file.
